A LIE, ZOOLOGICALLY CONSIDERED.
We stand agape in the British Museum, looking at the monstrous skeletons of
the mastodon, megatherium and iguanodon, and conclude that all the great
animals thirty feet long and eleven feet high are extinct.
Now, while we do not want to frighten children or disturb nervous people,
we have to say that the other day we caught a glimpse of a monster beside
which the lizards of the saurian era were short, and the elephants of the
mammalian period were insignificant. We saw it in full spring, and on the
track of its prey. Children would call the creature "a fib;" rough persons
would term it "a whopper;" polite folks would say it was "a fabrication;"
but plain and unscientific people would style it "a lie." Naturalists might
assign it to the species "Tigris regalis," or "Felis pardus."
We do not think that anatomical and zoological justice has been done to the
lie. It is to be found in all zones. Livingstone saw it in Central Africa;
Dr. Kane found it on an iceberg beside a polar bear; Agassiz discovered it
in Brazil. It thrives about as well in one clime as another, with perhaps a
little preference for the temperate zone. It lives on berries, or bananas,
or corn, grapes, or artichokes; drinks water, or alcohol, or tea. It eats
up a great many children, and would have destroyed the boy who afterward
became the father of his country had he not driven it back with his
hatchet. (See the last two hundred Sunday-school addresses.)
The first peculiarity of this Tigris regalis or Felis pardus, commonly
called a lie, is its
LONGEVITY.
If it once get born, it lives on almost interminably. Sometimes it has
followed a man for ten, twenty or forty years, and has been as healthy in
its last leap as in the first. It has run at every president from General
Washington to General Grant, and helped kill Horace Greeley. It has barked
at every good man since Adam, and every good woman since Eve, and every
good boy since Abel, and every good cow since Pharaoh's lean kine. Malarias
do not poison it, nor fires burn it, nor winters freeze it. Just now it is
after your neighbor; to-morrow it will be after you. It is the healthiest
of all monsters. Its tooth knocks out the "tooth of time." Its hair never
turns white with age, nor does it limp with decrepitude. It is
distinguished for its longevity.
THE LENGTH OF ITS LEGS.
It keeps up with the express train, and is present at the opening and the
shutting of the mailbags. It takes a morning run from New York to San
Francisco or over to London before breakfast. It can go a thousand miles at
a jump. It would despise seven-league boots as tedious. A telegraph pole is
just knee-high to this monster, and from that you can judge its speed of
locomotion. It never gets out of wind, carries a bag of reputations made up
in cold hash, so that it does not have to stop for victuals. It goes so
fast that sometimes five million people have seen it the same morning.
KEENNESS OF NOSTRIL.
It can smell a moral imperfection fifty miles away. The crow has no faculty
compared with this for finding carrion. It has scented something a hundred
miles off, and before night "treed" its game. It has a great genius for
smelling. It can find more than is actually there. When it begins to snuff
the air, you had better look out. It has great length and breadth and
depth, and height of nose.
ACUTENESS OF EAR.
The rabbit has no such power to listen as this creature we speak of. It
hears all the sounds that come from five thousand keyholes. It catches a
whisper from the other side the room, and can understand the scratch of a
pen. It has one ear open toward the east and the other toward the west, and
hears everything in both directions. All the tittle-tattle of the world
pours into those ears like vinegar through a funnel. They are always up and
open, and to them a meeting of the sewing society is a jubilee and a
political campaign is heaven.
SIZE OF THROAT.
The snake has hard work to choke down a toad, and the crocodile has a
mighty struggle to take in the calf; but the monster of which I speak can
swallow anything. It has a throat bigger than the whale that took down the
minister who declined the call to Nineveh, and has swallowed whole
presbyteries and conferences of clergymen. A Brobdingnagian goes down as
easily as a Liliputian. The largest story about business dishonor, or
female frailty, or political deception, slips through with the ease of a
homoeopathic pellet. Its throat is sufficient for anything round, or
square, or angular, or octagonal.
Nothing in all the earth is too big for its mastication and digestion save
the truth, and that will stick in its gullet.
IT IS GREGARIOUS.
It goes in a flock with others of its kind. If one takes after a man or
woman, there are at least ten in its company. As soon as anything bad is
charged against a man, there are many others who know things just as
deleterious. Lies about himself, lies about his wife, lies about his
children, lies about his associates, lies about his house, lies about his
barn, lies about his store--swarms of them, broods of them, herds of them.
Kill one of them, and there will be twelve alive to act as its
pall-bearers, another to preach its funeral sermon, and still another to
write its obituary.
These monsters beat all the extinct species. They are white, spotted and
black. They have a sleek hide, a sharp claw and a sting in their tail. They
prowl through every street of the city, craunch in the restaurants, sleep
in the hall of Congress, and in grandest parlor have one paw under the
piano, another under the sofa, one by the mantel and the other on the
door-sill.
Now, many people spend half their time in hunting lies. You see a man
rushing anxiously about to correct a newspaper paragraph, or a husband,
with fist clenched, on the way to pound some one who has told a false thing
about his wife. There is a woman on the next street who heard, last Monday,
a falsehood about her husband, and has had her hat and shawl on ever since
in the effort to correct wrong impressions. Our object in this zoological
sketch of a lie is to persuade you of the folly of such a hunting
excursion. If these monsters have such long legs, and go a hundred miles at
a jump, you might as well give up the chase. If they have such keenness of
nostril, they can smell you across the State, and get out of your way. If
they have such long ears, they can hear the hunter's first step in the
woods. If they have such great throats, they can swallow you at a gape. If
they are gregarious, while you shoot one, forty will run upon you like mad
buffaloes, and trample you to death. Arrows bound back from their thick
hide; and as for gunpowder, they use it regularly for pinches of snuff.
After a shower of bullets has struck their side, they lift their hind foot
to scratch the place, supposing a black fly has been biting. Henry the
Eighth, in a hawking party, on foot, attempted to leap a ditch in
Hertfordshire, and with his immense avoirdupois weight went splashing into
the mud and slime, and was hauled out by his footman half dead. And that is
the fate of men who spend their time hunting for lies. Better go to your
work, and let the lies run. Their bloody muzzles have tough work with a man
usefully busy. You cannot so easily overcome them with sharp retort as with
adze and yardstick. All the howlings of Californian wolves at night do not
stop the sun from kindling victorious morn on the Sierra Nevadas, and all
the ravenings of defamation and revenge cannot hinder the resplendent dawn
of heaven on a righteous soul.
But they who spend their time in trying to lasso and decapitate a lie will
come back worsted, as did the English cockneys from a fox chase described
in the poem entitled "Pills to Purge Melancholy:"
"And when they had done their sport, they came to London, where they dwell,
Their faces all so torn and scratched their wives scarce knew them well;
For 'twas a very great mercy so many 'scaped alive,
For of twenty saddles carried out, they brought again but five."